Showing posts with label crime. Show all posts
Showing posts with label crime. Show all posts

Monday, November 4, 2013

Black Light Tales


Black Light Tales [Kindle Edition]

Dean Burkey 


Book Description

 October 24, 2013

Dark Tales Told with a Light Touch


From the author of Monster Laughs, Seasons Without Reason, Exit Strategies, Channel Surfing, Heaven-Bent HUMOR: The DEAN Adventures,The Dean Burkey Bundle, How to Write All Kinds of Comedy Jokes, and more!, come five crazy tales too twisted to be included in Seasons Without Reason! 


“Oh, Flap!” 

On the trail of a serial killer obsessed with cereal, 

Chief Detective Chip Folic faces inner demons of his own. 

“Aren’t you too old to be eating Rice Zippies?” 

“No way! Rice Zippies are a delicious part of this nutritious breakfast.” 

“Munch Wisely, My Son” 

Beware of biting off more than you can chew. 

We met when I visited Nutler Library 

to research my discourse on the instability of rational thought 

and accidentally spilled hot chocolate on her pom-poms. 

“Boy Loses Girl” 

Somebody’s missing some body. 

Formaldehyde isn’t the kind of cologne that attracts eager lovers. 


“The Search for the Perfect Turd” 

Stinking pride leads to a stinky downfall. 

“Would I jest?” the jester replied 

as he batted his dark brown, soulful eyes. 


“T. M. I.” 

Would you want to remember everything? 

“Are you sure you want to know?” 

Mom’s last words hung in the air 

like laundry drying in the MidWest in the 1950s. 
Sans the sandstorm. 


A different kind of darkness; 

a different kind of humor; 

a different kind of book: 

Black Light Tales

Enjoy?

Product Details

  • File Size: 640 KB
  • Print Length: 58 pages
  • Publisher: http://heaven-bent.com (October 24, 2013)
  • Sold by: Amazon Digital Services, Inc.
  • Language: English
  • ASIN: B00G6ZMVAA
  • Text-to-Speech: Enabled 
  • X-Ray: Not Enabled 
  • Lending: Enabled

Excerpts:


“Oh, Flap!” 
“What?! How? How? How do you know?” 
“I sniffed the package.” 
Folic glared at Oats with an odd mixture of revulsion and respect. Oats stared back with an even mixture of discomfort and pride. 
“All right team!” Folic huffed to help maintain his self-perceived image of a hard-boiled detective. But he cracked long ago; and those on the inside knew him as scrambled. He only kept his job, because as a rookie cop, he stifled the factual rumors that the mayor’s eldest son moonlighted as an overweight, cross-dressing, flamenco dancer lacking in rhythm. Back when society frowned upon that sort of thing. “I wanna know every supplier of sugary breakfast cereals in a five-mile radius. Might as well tap into sources for milk; and squeeze the juicers too. Put a tracking device inside every delicious box of Rice Zippies that offers a free prize. Um. As the saying goes.” He cleared his throat. “Don’t stand around gaping at me; get to work!” Folic turned to stomp away, slipped on a banana peel, and crashed onto his back. Something snapped. He clenched his teeth, gawked at the sky, and called out, “Let’s also track the banana dealers.” 
Oats was a good egg. Although this case made him feel overly uneasy, he often came across as Sunny-Side Up. He held out his hand to help his boss and mentor stand. Folic gripped so hard, the bones in Oats’ hand crackled. In retaliation, Jargon jerked Folic up so fast, something in Chip’s back popped. 

“Munch Wisely, My Son” 
As I was about to weep, my bubbly date chimed in, “Aw, that’s a stupid one. Mine’s funny. ‘To thine own self be true, unless no one’s looking.’ Get it?”
I feigned a slight chuckle. Hers was rehashed, butchered Shakespeare, while mine was a paradigm of true philosophy adroitly expounded in a mere sixteen words. How my mind boggled at such profundity! I pondered how long the sage sat in the lotus position atop a Himalayan summit before becoming so prodigiously enlightened. His brethren must have searched for him when he disregarded the dinner bell. “O Wise One, thine evening meal hast been prepared,” they may have summoned.
With ascetic tenacity, he replied, “Pop it in the freezer boys, I’m onto a good one.” 
I imagine that as the dedicated philosopher eschewed interruptions in his pursuit of timeless truths, his beard grew two feet longer. And I strongly doubt that his fellow pundits ever protested, “Aw, that’s a stupid one. Mine’s funny.”

“Boy Loses Girl” 
I blame the coroner. Not Doctor Schwartz this time. Doctor Andrew J. Perkins. Took too long to examine the body. I sucked the last of my Mega-Gulp and needed the facilities. Had he been ready right away, I could’ve waited until I got to Serenity Gardens. They have the best facilities for those kind of places. The paper towels feel like cloth. The Muzak sounds vibrant too. Not like the usual dreary drivel piped into other funeral homes.  And their vending machine’s reasonably priced. They don’t gouge you like Shady Oaks and Max’ Mortuary and Memorial. 

“The Search for the Perfect Turd” 
  “You’re right!” The wilted old king blossomed and blared, “Sound the trumpets! Declare a day of celebration!”
Stupefied by the king’s spirited response, Jowls stood with his mouth agape and eyebrows raised. After the balls fell, hit him in his head, and ricocheted around the room, he scrambled to retrieve them. Unaware that Jowls’ clumsy antics were unintentional, Yore howled in hysterics.
Answering the king’s call, Yore’s faithful, raven-haired steward Sergio entered. “Oh good, so you finally decided to chop off the idiot’s head, eh?”
“No, my good man, certainly not! I want Jowls to be robed in the grandest apparel and seated at my right hand at a huge banquet in his honor. Spread the word!”
“What?! Just because he can juggle three balls?”

“T. M. I.” 
“Hey!” I said. “Can I have half?” 
Fenster broke the candy bar into two pieces and devoured one side while caressing the other. Savoring the flavor and garbling his words, “Have you ever eaten one before?” 
“Yes! Those are delicious.” I beamed, eying the other half. “My favorite!” 
“Good,” he said. “Then you won’t need mine.” He plopped the other piece into his mouth and mumbled with chocolate, nutty delight, “If all goes well, you’ll remember how much you enjoy them. If not, there’s no need to waste this yummy goodness on you.” 
“Thank you so much for your compassion and generosity.” My luxury liner of desire hit an iceberg and sank. No lifeboats. No survivors. No candy bar for me. I slumped. 

Secret Insights: 

I wrote this book a while back, but I didn’t like the cover I had. And then I came across Lee Wag s photo “Shadow Lurker” at http://www.publicdomainpictures.net and used that to create the cover. My original idea was to have me waving a black light over a wall; and then on the wall it says: “Black Light Tales: Dark Tales Told with a Light Touch by Dean Burkey” Which would be totally cool. I just didn’t know how to go about doing that. I’m already on the cover of at least four of my books anyway! (Monster Laughs, How to Write All Kinds of Comedy Jokes Volume 1: How to Write Comedy Jokes, Heaven-Bent HUMOR: The Dean Adventures, and John 3:16 Beautiful Savior.) Still, would’ve looked awesome, had I had an explorer’s outfit and a cave wall.
Although the Fair Use ruling of US Copyright Law allows the usage of copyrighted materials when used as a form of parody, I still changed the names of famous cereals to made-up names in “Oh, Flap!”. I.e., Rice Zippies! I also changed the slogan and mascot names to Flap, Flackle, Flop! The multiple meanings of the phrase “Oh, Snap!” made for a much better title, but I didn’t want to risk being sued. As seen in the excerpt above, in “T.M.I.”, I also changed the name of a famous candy bar to Giggles, another synonym for a type of laughter. And in “Boy Loses Girl”, I even changed the name of drink size to Mega-Gulp.
“Munch Wisely, My Son” and “The Search for the Perfect Turd” aren’t as “sinister” as the other three stories, but I included them anyway, because they didn’t fit the tone of “Seasons Without Reason”.
These tales cover dark topics and themes, but I still weave some of my humor through each one; hence the title and subheading: “Black Light Tales: Dark Tales Told with a Light Touch”.
Visit the Kindle page to Look Inside; and read the beginning before you buy the book. If, after reading these excerpts and that preview, you buy the Kindle book, but still don’t like it for whatever reason, please return the Kindle edition to Amazon within 6 days; and they should issue you a complete refund. Your satisfaction means more to me than your money. On the other hand, when you find yourself enjoying at least one of these stories, please leave me a 5-star review! Thank you.

Thursday, September 5, 2013

Bonus Post: Channel Surfing Is FREE Sept. 5-9, 2013


Channel Surfing [Kindle Edition]

Dean Burkey 


Channel Surfing


Laughs, Chills, Suspense, Thrills

From comedian Dean Burkey, the author of Monster Laughs, Seasons Without Reason, & Exit Strategies, comes an Action-Packed Comedy Thriller!

Surfer dude Brad is dying to catch a big wave; and he does. Die, that is. The big wave catches him.

Paramedics bring him back. But he doesn't come back alone. After sunset, he channels ghosts.

Unable to control the voices blurting out of his mouth, Brad embarrasses himself and others.

Channeling the dead isn't always as fun as it sounds. Especially when slain informant Tony hijacks your vocal chords. Incurring the wrath of those who murdered that rat in the first place.

Detective Rusty hears of Brad's newfound gift and protects him from thugs Ben and Jerry, who aren't as competent as their crime boss hoped. Seeking to avenge his partner's death, Rusty cons Brad into impersonating the informant on the stand.

With danger all around, Tony double-crosses Brad too.

What's a channeling surfer to do?

Action, excitement, and laughter abound in this comedy thriller, which also includes romance and mystery, to provide something fun for everyone.

Excerpts and Snippets


Brad furrowed his brow further.  “How long was I out?”

[Cindy]: “Since yesterday.”  She thought about the bizarre talking-in-his-sleep, or in his case, talking-in-his-coma incident.  “Or less.”

Brad ran his fingers through her curly hair.  She cooed.

He sighed.  “Oh, good.  People who are out longer than that often suffer weird side effects.”


[Brad]: “You hated me being empty-headed; and now I’ve got a convention in here.”


Brad opened his eyes, gawked at the disheveled man before him.  Too clean to be a beggar.  Too unkempt to be a cop.  And too vertical to be a junkee.  “I’m no angel.  Who are you?”

[Rusty]: “I’m no angel either.  But I carry a badge.”

Brad gulped.  Not those guys again.  How did this one get away without having to follow the basic rules of grooming and hygiene?  “Thought of another joke, after you threw me out?”

[Rusty]: “I didn’t throw you out.  I’m crazy enough to believe you.”  Rusty held out his hand.

Brad glowered at Rusty’s hand.  “If only I were crazy enough to believe you, we’d have it made.”  Unkempt or not, he didn’t trust cops.


“Is this place?” He gulped. “Safe?”

Rusty nodded. “I think so. But I get shot at everyday. So safe may mean something different to me than it does to you.” 


“Don’t fret Blondie, you’re not crazy. But the voices in your head are.”


“Hey, Benny.”  Jerry asked, “Where’s your gun?”

“Shut up!”

“That’s coming out of your pay.”

“I said, ‘Shut up!’”

“Whatcha gonna do Benny?  Shoot me?  Ya’ don’t got no gun.”


[Rusty]: “Cheer up.  You don’t look that stupid.”

Brad pounded the dashboard.  “I don’t look stupid at all!”


[Rusty]: “Why do you suddenly make my ex-wife seem emotionally sound?”  Although he and Sheila hadn’t finalized their divorce proceedings, he didn’t believe they could reconcile, so he already considered her his ex-wife.

[Brad]: “You wouldn’t understand, Tin-Man.”

Rusty laughed.  “There’s not a super power in the world that can save you from love.”

Brad blushed.  Love is the ultimate kryptonite.


Disobeying Rusty’s orders, Brad stuck his head out the door.  “Don’t get ice from the machine here.  I need frozen spring water.”

[Rusty]: “I’ll fetch organic, fresh-squeezed, twice-filtered, rain water from a spring surrounded by aloe plants and daffodils.”

[Brad]: “Don’t sweat the daffodils.  Although aloe sounds cool.”


Rusty drove at a steady pace down Beachview Drive. 

Brad fidgeted. “Looks like she misses me.” 

Rusty shrugged. “Or she’s allergic to flowers.” 


“Bad guys go bang-bang at us. We go bang-bang back.”


“I’m a lover, not a shooter. Make love, not shoot.” 

“Aw, that’s sweet. Your gal can say that at your funeral.” 


Before you buy this book, take a Look Inside!


All the Best,



Cover Info: 



Bonus Excerpt:


Two muscular male nurses Chip and Mark bounded toward Brad.  
Chip clenched his fists.  Rehabilitated out of a bike gang, he missed the adrenaline rush of a testosterone-fueled, hand-to-hand altercation.  “We’re trying to save this man’s life.”  
“So am I.”  Brad grabbed the gurney.  
As Chip and Mark huddled around him, Brad’s eyes rolled back.  “Back off punks!  Ya’ don’t scare me!”  
As Chip and Mark lunged forward, Brad yelped and ducked under the gurney.  
Dr. Monroe, Chip, Mark, and the rest of the medical team rolled their eyes.  What a goober.  Macho moron afraid of his own shadow.  
While the others considered him an easily frightened coward, Brad unlocked the wheels.  
As Chip and Mark reached under the gurney to nab him, Brad darted out the other side, wielding a scalpel and a hypodermic needle.  “Say, look what I found.”  
While the other medical personnel gasped and backed away, Chip stepped forward with clenched, pulsating fists.  
Brad brandished the scalpel and hypodermic needle.  “Split or be split!”